


like nothing has changed

by sonia (aquatulip)



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/F, Funerals, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatulip/pseuds/sonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>maybe you shouldn’t have told fuyuhiko about satou. maybe you should have kept it all buried, except that you fell in love with a girl like the springtime, and satou had given you frigid, permanent winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like nothing has changed

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for day 03 of shsl rarepair week ! kuzuryuu’s sister is referred to as kuzuryuu meanwhile kuzuryuu is referred to as fuyuhiko. just to avoid confusion.

* * *

 

the rhythm of the rain is a syncopated beat that you cannot dance hand-in-hand with. the morbidity of life is accepted within your life, you know how short life could be as you stare at the tips of dirtied needles and of sickened guards who pass too soon after consuming your meals. people near you typically are jealous of you, or cursed because of you; you suppose that she was cursed. to have died so suddenly, and by some pervert, according to satou. you snort at that. satou,  _what a fucking joke._ she even had acted out the part of someone who had just committed an unforgivable crime — you would know, you’ve looked into the guilty faces of many.

_how fucking ironic that it’s raining on the day of her wake._

her brother is clutching a set of beads just as you are; there’s a storm in his features and you watch him closely even though you are not permitted to step out to be close to the family. you were her well-kept secret, and she had been yours. the seating arrangement makes it hard for you to see her within the casket; you want to know if she looks peaceful in death, because when you had stumbled upon her dead body, she looked anything but peaceful. _they probably fucking went against her wishes and put her in that ugly ass kimono she hated._  you worry your lip as you feel the emptiness contained in your chest spreading.  _it isn’t fair that i’m stuck as a guest, i meant so much to her_. your hands are shaking uncontrollably in front of you and koizumi reaches over to place her hand atop yours. just as her cold skin touches yours, you pull away from her and accidentally hit tsumiki, who sniffles beside you. “don’t… fucking touch me,” you say through gritted teeth. luckily koizumi backs off, beside her there is an empty spot where satou should be seated.

_she didn’t even fucking show._

all of it is kind of morbidly hilarious; you’d laugh if it wouldn’t immediately get you kicked out of the ceremony. satou always had to put her nose wherever it didn’t belong; you know she cares about koizumi more than she cares about anything else, but… murder…  _fucking murder, she fucking murdered her._ you’d hate for her to ever be left in a room alone with koizumi’s father if this is what she did to kuzuryuu.

the air changes as the priest mutters some words that you can’t understand; you are too far away and your consciousness is slipping with every fleeting second. you are jarred back into reality though as a scream slices the thickened air: it is a scream of anguish and pain. for a moment, you fear that it is you who is screaming before your eyes refocus on kuzuryuu fuyuhiko, doubled over on the floor. beside him, pekoyama stands at attention as his parents hurriedly try to get him to stand back up. not once does the swordswoman break her composure, but you can see straight through that fucking lie.  _how many liars can be contained within one area?_ you snort underneath your breath, but as you do, it hitches and immediately you feel the wetness on your cheeks.

 _n-no_ , you laugh hollowly.  _no weakness_ , you promised.

as you gather yourself and fuyuhiko is being gathered from the ground, the ceremony progresses smoothly, as though the pain of sudden, young death is simply a bump in the road that you pass over once. tears are pooling in your lap as you realize that now that you have started crying, there’s no telling when you’ll quit.

when the time for the incense arrives, your hands shake too badly, but you manage to light it without anyone’s help because it is for her. _f…fuck,_ you press your beads to your forehead with a heavy prayer on your lips as the ceremony closes,  _f-fuck, i loved her so much_.

life bares its fangs to you once again, but this time, you strike first with venom in your blood.

.

.

.

.

you don’t like the name they give her; it doesn’t settle right on your lips and when you look back at your memories, you find that her face is misplaced with that name. it is carved into the wood of the table now though. you are too bitter about all of this, but still you don’t speak the truth about the situation. you just grit your fucking teeth until they all shatter and you cut your mouth open. as your mouth fills with blood, you fucking choke on it and die.

the ceremony is moving too slowly even though the crowd isn’t large. with rosary in hand and silent prayers on their lips, everyone moves forward collectively; it as though everyone is under a hivemind meanwhile fuyuhiko and you work functionally different than them. you watch with deadened, glazed gaze as people come forward to bow, offer incense, then take their leave back to their seat. even you do this with the beads clasped in your hands. at your seat you had counted them all. it had been a small release from the reality of it all. you are one of the only people to repeat this process as you desperately wish for her to return, but are aware that she won’t: that she’s lost to you.

after you bow, you turn to return to your seat, fuyuhiko offers you a small nod that tells you how thankful he is to have you there; you want to rip your fucking hair out and smash your fists against brick walls until all the bones in your hands are broken. while you hate yourself, more people approach the urn and then return to their seats; the priest says his last words and departs from everyone’s company. you think about how it’d feel to drive fucking nails into the heels of your feet meanwhile everyone around you continues to function.

only when you hear fuyuhiko speak are you drawn away from your thoughts.

“thank you for coming to the service. we appreciate your support and the time you have sacrificed…” his eyes are lack the light they once held; there’s a silent fury there that you can read, but you say nothing as you lean back in your seat and listen as he continues his speech of gratitude. after he seats himself again, the ceremony continues at a slow pace and beside you, tsumiki fiddles with the beads in her hands. if you were a kind person you’d reach out and hold her hand to comfort her, but you kind of want to break her wrist, so you just put your eyes forward and watch the speaker’s mouth move without hearing his words. that’s a dissonance that you enjoy because you hardly fucking care about anyone here aside from the girl in the casket and the boy with dead eyes.

minutes tick by, then you have to rise to place flowers within the casket. your hands are shaking at this point because you are going to have to look at her; your gaze has professionally avoided her, but now you will be able to look at her and the smattering of freckles on her face. she’s so beautiful that you know your lips will quiver as you think about the first time you kissed her and how she had held you too tightly as though she knew she was going to disappear with time. your throat feels tight and tears sting your eyes as you approach the body and lay your pristine, white flowers against the side of her casket. her face doesn’t look serene, it looks terrified and full of pain: it looks exactly as it did when you stumbled upon her body.

you have to turn away from as your stomach churns uneasily. you bow quicker than the others and depart as soon as you can. the casket is sealed and tears cloud your vision as you watch her being loaded into the hearse. the family departs to the crematorium meanwhile the rest of you move towards the food and drink procession being held for close friends and family. others leave quickly now that the ceremony is over. koizumi asks you if you need to be taken home, but you push away from her. “not from fucking you. leave me alone,” and you depart from her company as you approach the table of food.

.

.

.

.

when the family returns, they all look exhausted, but you approach fuyuhiko regardless. your heart is heavy in your chest because you realize that what you are doing is dangerous. “hey,” you say quietly and he nods to you.

“hey,” is all he returns with. pekoyama is too close to the both of you.

“can i talk to you?” you ask him in a flat tone that suggests nothing suspicious; he accepts and the both of you head over to the drinks while pekoyama turns to be address by fuyuhiko’s father. within your hands, you hold a knife that will end all of the suffering, or so you wish. none of it is that easy, but you hand the knife over to fuyuhiko when you stand before him. “satou murdered her. i think you might have had your suspicions, but i just wanted to confirm them. the stupid bitch is a horrible liar.” you bite down on your lip as he shakes with anger.

unadulterated anger. “i fucking knew it.” his nails dig into his palms.

“yea,” you say emptily, “i’m going home now though.”

you have nothing else to say, no words of comfort to give to her brother and he has no kind words for you. both of you move around one another. you feel transparent as you depart from his house and slip back into the reality of your own life. everything feels shadowed and fake to you, but you simply climb into your bed and sleep you are being forcibly pulled from your bed by greedy hands that force you to continue your practices and to resume being a participant in society. you fucking hate your grandmother, you realize, but not for the first time.

.

.

.

.

fear rattles your core when mioda tells you that  _satou-chan is dead!_ , but there’s an apathy that you carry beside it. you are almost smug when you think about it, but instead of thinking about it, you bite your tongue and promise to help koizumi to the nurse’s office. too bad you don’t fucking care about the dead body that mirrors kuzuryuu’s. you know that fuyuhiko has blood on his hands now, and you are glad you told him even though you aren’t sure if this is the solution you were looking for. there’s that dissonance again, and you welcome it unsurely.

when her ceremony is held, there’s an empty seat where you should be.

you stoop just as low as her, but there’s a difference, you don’t give an absolute fuck. koizumi and tsumiki and mioda swallow the excuse that you have had one too many funerals as you cover yourself with more blankets and will the night to suffocate you in your sleep as you imagine the fleeting sound of laughter against your open mouth and the way she always tasted like rainwater when you kissed her. alas you still wake up when the sun rises, and your heart is still as hollow as ever, and you think it’ll always be that way.

despair’s a funny thing like that.


End file.
